2012-08-09 A Dazzler in the Rough
Gotham. A city of corruption. A city of duality. A city where those who do not wish to be found can hide. A city where Bruce Banner now recides. He came here after being rescued by the Sisters, and for that he was grateful. But he can only hide for so long, and doing so would make him ansy. So, with their help, he got a job with the clinic here. Small pay, high risk conditions, dangerous patients. Reminds him of India. In a sense, Bruce felt a sense of peace here. It was only his first day, but his knowledge of medical skill impressed many of the workers and volunteers here, and he has already helped more people in a few hours than they could a whole day. Bruce felt that, if there was ever a chance, he'd get into medicine. His last patient came with her girlfriend, suffering from widthdrawls. It astounded him that even in this drug-ridden area, there were those trying to get clean. Bruce knew he could only do so much, but the best thing for them is beyond them: leave for a better climate. But a bit of hope can help give people the inspiration to move on. "Okay, who's my next patient?" Alison looks up when 'Next!' is called -- "That's me," she calls out, then gets up -- slowly. Her jeans are ripped mostly up on the left leg, lacerations visible but not gushing. Her sweater is wrapped tightly around what's probably the worst wound. Strips of it are also wrapped around her right hand, and she limps a bit into the Doctor's office. "Got into an argument," Alison offers by way of explanation. "Had a bit of a fall, scraped my hand up trying NOT to and then landed badly." Muscle reaction and the almost eerie calm in her voice all things considered indicate the shock probably just hasn't worn off yet. "Okay, that is not good." He took a look at wounds a bit closely. "Must of been some heck of an argument." He softly shakes his head, thinking about how brutal people can be. He can't picture a reason for someone to hurt her; she seemed like a sweet girl, more clean than the usual customers. He gets the impression this is the first time she was here. "Okay, your leg looks bad, but fortunately looks can be decieving. I don't see anything that some good care can't take care of." He gave her a soft smile. He then noticed the other wound. "Okay, I would like to see the other wound, if that's okay. I'll be gentle." He waits for her approval before getting too close to her. This is a clinic, but one can never be too careful. "By the way, you can call me David. May I ask your name?" "Ali," she offers. "I was looking for a place to crash for the night, since I haven't been able to find another gig yet to get enough for a hotel." She slowly unwraps the wound on her hand, wincing as she does so - sweater material doesn't make the best bandaging. "I caught some weasel beating up a 14-year-old girl. We had beef." Alison adds a bit of a smile there. "Luckily for me it was only on the second floor, huh?" "Ali, nice to meet you." Bruce helps taking off the makeshit bandage trying to take care in not hurting her. "So... if this is what happened to you, I'd hate to see the other guy. But it looks like you won." He makes careful inspection of the wound. "Doesn't look like anything serious. Considering how you can walk here, I don't see any internal bleeding. But just to be sure I'm going to take your blood pressure. And knowing how things are here, I would say you are pretty lucky." Bruce moves to get the necessary equipment. There wouldn't be much, but the Sisters helped with that as well, on their Christmas spree. "So, gig huh? Are you a singer?" "Sometimes, if I can get the work. It's been hard lately," Ali admits. "Mostly I've had to settle for whatever I can get, and very little of it has involved singing. My grandma wants me to move back in with her and my dad, but that's too much like giving up, you know?" Alison looks around the office a little while she waits on the equipment to be readied. "Watch much in the way of news, David?" she asks tentatively. There seemed to be a distinct lack of current reading material in the waiting room. "Funny you should mention that." Bruce chuckled as he brought the blood pressure machine to her. "Now, just wrap this around the arm you feel most comfortable with, and try to relax." He let her choose the arm, and waited patiently. "I did notice that the Hulk was seen in Manhattan. Scary stuff. Took people's minds off of Jersey Shore and celebrity break-ups for now. They're still talking about it." Bruce went back to look for the appropriate medication, after setting the machine, which the clinic would not normally have. The Cuckoos were VERY generous. "Wow," Alison says quietly, putting the cuff around her uninjured arm. "I can't help but wonder what makes him so angry, though. I mean - King Kong, right? Out of his element and unsure of how to behave to appease society, and then the military gets involved?" She shakes her head, "I wouldn't want to be in his path, but... I don't know. Guns and tanks and things don't usually solve that sort of problem. If they /did/, well, it would have worked the first time, right?" "Unfortunately, Ali, common sense is no longer common these days. If only people would stop and think, and realize that fearing things is no way to deal with things. If people would only stop, and try to understand others..." Bruce found the medication, and took that as well as some fresh bandage tape. Before dealing with that, he went back to her and checked the machine. "Hmm... 133 over 86. That's a bit high, but no wonder, considering what happen. I wouldn't worry too much, and at least it's not low. Tells me your wounds are not too serious." Bruce then goes back to his medication. "Now, I'm going to ask you for something embarassing: I'm going to need you to move up your shirt, and then your pant leg. I'll need to put fresh bandages on it, after I give you a few shots to prevent infection." Ali doesn't even argue - or blush, really. "Thanks for not just cutting them off," she retorts with a cheeky grin, then works her shoes off with her feet. Of course, the sprain makes getting her left shoe off less than fun, but she manages all right - and then just undoes her pants and slips them right off. No embarrassment there, her underwear is clean. "Oh, yes, your limp. I'm going to get some ice for that, don't worry." As he looked there, he got part of the medication: a wet cloth, and cleaned up the major wound first. "I hope you aren't afraid of needles," he said as he took a syringe and injected some anti-biotics into her. He then got some ibuprofen and applied it to the wound. "That should ease the pain. And now..." He then took his tape and wrapped it around the wound, taking extra care. "Okay, that should do it." Bruce then proceeded to do the same to her leg. "Forgive me, Ali, but I'm curious as to why a young woman such as yourself is here, of all places. You... don't look like you've been here for a long while." "Hard times, David," is all Alison really cops to - and she's a fairly good patient, only wincing or sucking in a breath when something stings, rather than flinching or twitching unhelpfully. "I trusted the wrong people, made a couple of colossal mistakes, and - well, here I am." She smiles a little then, even shrugging. "But I'll figure it out. There's always a way, if you're willing to look for it and work for it, you know?" Bruce smiles. It's a bit distant, and a bit hopeful. "I do." Soon, Bruce finishes bandaging up the leg. "Okay, that should do it. You look healthy enough, I think you'll come out fine. In more ways than one." Bruce then moves towards the tall closet in the clinic. He opens it, and takes out some clean clothes: jeans, a shirt, and a jacket. They were old, but still sturdy. He then takes a tube of ibuprofin, and some bandage tape. "Okay, take these. You'll need to change your bandages once a day, and use some of the ibuprofin if you ever feel any pain again on the wounds. And the rest... I think you know." He put them next to her, and before she can object he takes up the bloddy sweather and the ripped pants. He gives her a reassuring smile. She doensn't object - instead readily slipping the pants on before turning her back to 'David' to take her old shirt off and put the new on in it's place. There's a tattoo on the small of her back that looks kind of like a stylized or tribal blue butterfly shape. With only a bit of pained wiggling she gets her shoes back on without bothering with the laces. "Thanks, David," Ali says, putting the jacket on over her shoulders, taking the tube and the tape and putting them in her pockets. "For the chat, especially. Closest thing I've had to an actual decent conversation in a few days."" "Glad to hear it." He turns around and goes and throws the sweater in the trash. He then takes the pants, and goes over to her. "Before you leave, I want you to get an ice pack for that sprain. You don't have to, as I found 'Doctor's Orders' has a different effect here. But you can't move on with your life you aren't able to, physically." He hands her the trashed jeans. "Just in case you had something left in there. I would check, just in case. I don't want to pry." "My locker key!" Alison exclaims with a quick snap, then fishing in the front pocket of the ruined pants to retrieve said key. "Thanks, I had totally forgotten. Everything I've got left is in there, I didn't want to squat somewhere and go to sleep and risk waking up with it missing, you know?" Chucking her pants into the trash herself and re-pocketing the key, Alison grins. "I've sprained that ankle a couple of times, I'm familiar with the drill. One of these days maybe I'll get 'lucky' and it'll break so that it can heal /properly/ eh?" "Be careful what you wish for, Ali. But I do wish the best for you." Bruce started to put his supplies away and clean up the area. "If the world was all equal, I would advise you to keep off your ankle for a few days. I would also advise you take some rest." Bruce then turned to face her. "Instead, I would advise you to go to the Golden Hotel a few blocks down. It's the rustiest building, but it's good for what passes today. I know the owner there from... a past aquaintence. His names Goldie, and he looks mean, but you have to in this area. If you give him my name, and where I'm working, he'll give you a reasonable price of $20 a night. Given what's in your pockets, minus food and other stuff, you should be able to stay there for a few weeks." "Thanks for the tip, David," Ali grins. "A couple of days worth of food is about all the money I have left, but there's a couple of job leads I'm chasing down. Hopefully I'll make enough to find a place across the river." "Thanks again for the help. I've taken up enough of your time..." Ali offers her hand - her left, since her proper shaking hand is bandaged up. "If I see you again, hopefully I won't be all banged up next time." "Any time. I'll be here in the unforseeable future. And yea, the less damaged, the better. It would be a shame to lose someone of your talent over something so... trivial." Bruce had just finished cleaning up, and took her left hand with his. "People usually don't come, due to their own situations. I'm glad you came here. And about the money, you might want to take a closer look at your pockets. I could have sworn there was more in there." To what Bruce was referring to: there was a wad of money in the jacket of $20s that sized up to $1000. The Sisters were very generous. The bills in her hand... Alison just sort of stares. "I... thanks, David, but... I can't take this." She doesn't even keep it in her hand, she just sets the whole thing down on the hospital bed. "I appreciate the thought, but if I was going to take a handout I'd go back to Long Island with my tail between my legs. I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself." "Use it for the clinic here, you can help more people that way," Alison just shakes her head. "I appreciate it, but I'll make do. I can't just take your money." "It's not mine to give." Bruce picks up the money, and hands it to her. "We had a few... generous contributes a while back. This clinic is doing okay, for now. But... if that doesn't convince you, consider it an advanced payment." Bruce gives her a smile. "While there are many addicts and people of less than savory natures that come, there are also a lot of good people that... don't have it good. It's the reason this clinic still exists, it's the reason people still work here. And many of them can't afford many luxuries, such as concerts. So how about it? $1000 for a concert? I know it's not the common rate, but I think it will do them good. It will do everyone good." Alison makes a face, but it IS a decent amount of money AND the idea of performing? It's a convincing argument. "All right," she relents. Alison puts the money in the inner pocket of the jacket, then points. "Money for a show, I accept." She starts to go, then, but turns around at the door and fixes Bruce with a /look./ "I'll get in touch with you from Goldie's. We can talk details then." "I'm looking forward to it." Bruce gives her a smile. It was a smile that some would considered nice, and others would considered snarky, like he just won a bet or something. "Just take care. And be careful, don't want you coming in so soon." Another /look/ - Alison apparently can't QUITE decode the smile, but hell, she's not going to stick around and poke holes in it. "Thanks Doc." A little wave, and then she's on her way out. Bruce waves back, while shouting, "Oh, and don't forget the ice pack! Ask the nurses outside for help!" He moved out, making sure she heard him. He then relaxed, and went back inside, taking a moment for himself. He began to reflect on her, and made a comment that just vocalized. "It shouldn't matter... even if you are mutant..." He took a moment to breathe. He then went back outside, moving on just like she was. "Okay, who's my next patient?" Category:Logs Category:RPLogs